Unnecessary Ruffness
by threadfinjack
Summary: Emma Swan decides to try to cure her loneliness by adopting a dog. She's never heard of the Puppy Bowl, so when the puppy she adopts gets selected to be a star athlete on the show, she decides to check it out for herself. Little does she know the referee responsible for keeping all of the little athletes in line wants to solve that problem for her, too. CS Puppy Bowl fluff.


  
A/N: For all my lovely CS puppy enthusiasts.

Emma wasn't quite sure what had drawn her to the little veterinary clinic/animal shelter on the edge of town all those weeks ago. Maybe it was the loneliness of coming home to an empty apartment night after night. Maybe it was the need for exercise that didn't involve chasing after bail skippers in stilettos. Whatever she'd tried to tell herself back then had obviously worked, because she left the place with adoption papers to fill out and David Nolan's business card in her pocket.

Now, with the new year just beginning and the unshakable urge to have something to come home to weighing heavy on her chest, Emma had the same business card was tucked carefully away in her wallet and the adoption papers laid beneath it on her passenger seat. The adoption application process was more intense than her college applications had been, but with a little luck the shelter owner would find her up to snuff. He'd liked her well enough the first time, anyway, or at least enough to tell her he had just the puppy for her when he'd called on the phone last week.

* * *

_Get out of the car, Emma, people are staring._ Sharp green eyes met her own in the rearview mirror, silently scolding her for sitting in the parking lot and staring at the shelter-slash-clinic doors like a detective on a stakeout. She narrowed her eyes at her own reflection and unbuckled her seatbelt, bent on swearing off late nights at the station for at least two weeks now that she was having full-on arguments with herself.

The place was just as bright and unnaturally fresh as she remembered it from before. It was a little quieter than last time, too, but then she'd made sure not to come on the weekend during peak adoption hours this time. David's wife greeted her happily from her space at the front desk, waving Emma over with more enthusiasm than she usually encountered from people she'd only met once before.

"Today's the big day, huh? Are you excited?" Mary Margaret grinned at her and reached over the partition in the counter to take the paperwork from Emma's hand. She looked everything over for a moment and, apparently deciding all of it was in order, ducked through the swinging door that led through to the adoptable animals in the clinic. The moment the doors opened Emma noticed a stark difference in the sound level compared to the lobby. Soundproof walls were a necessary investment when it came to taking care of so many puppies and kittens, apparently.

"David's been going on and on about you to the puppy he's bringing out," she chirped once she returned, handing Emma a photocopy of her original application along with a commitment waiver that held Emma responsible for bringing the little boy or girl in for routine checkups. The place took adopting very seriously, which made her feel much more competent than she had fifteen minutes ago on the car ride over. "Did he send you any pictures?"

"Nope," Emma shook her head, suddenly worried that the surprise approach might not have been the best call. What if he saddled her with a Great Dane that barely fit in her apartment? "He knows I don't have a big yard, right? I wrote down that I'd be able to take it to the dog park most days, and —"

"— It's going to be fine. David is kind of eerily good at matchmaking when it comes to pets and their owners," Mary Margaret said, smiling knowingly at Emma. She probably saw dozens of people just like her come through their doors every month, she realized, and she probably wasn't the only one who didn't have a lot of room for a puppy to run around. The phone rang then, jarring her out of her train of thought and cutting their friendly small talk short. Mary Margaret listened intently on the other end and strangely beamed right at Emma through it all, nodding and humming every so often to the person on the other line.

"This is going to sound a little crazy," she told Emma, hanging up the phone and scribbling something down onto a post-it note, "but that phone call was actually great news for you. Your adoption fees just got waived. Conditionally at least." Mary Margaret opened up the partition in the counter and beckoned her forward, shutting the counter closed again once Emma was following her through the doors to the kennel. "You see, a couple scouts came through the area looking for some well-behaved, energetic puppies that weren't camera or people-shy, and yours just happened to catch their eyes."

"Camera shy?" Emma asked, shooting a wary look at the receptionist. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh! Right," Mary Margaret said, stopping right in the middle of the walkway and turning to face Emma fully. "He's going to be in the Puppy Bowl?"

"David?"

"No," Mary Margaret said, leaning down and opening the door to a crate to let an eager-faced, bright-eyed puppy come toddling toward them. "_He _is."

Emma found herself standing with a counter between her and Mary Margaret again, arms laden with squirming puppy while she waited for all the documentation to process. Hank, as she'd started affectionately calling the little lab mix, was busy trying to reach up and lick her chin while she stared at the post-it Mary Margaret had handed her. It had the address of the film studio where the whole thing was taking place, _tomorrow_ of all things, and she couldn't help but wonder why David had seemed to think this particular puppy-errand combo was for her. She kept right on wondering up to the morning of the event, when little Hank was in the backseat of her bug and giving her the same curious look she was shooting him.

"Hope you're ready for your close up."

* * *

Whatever Emma had expected after a quick search online for the Puppy Bowl flew out of her mind the second she and Hank got through their check-in. The hall was filled with excited voices, both human and canine noise filtering through the air as they got closer to the studio.

Part of the room was blocked off with massive temporary walls, where she guessed the actual filming of the thing took place. From what she'd read, the Puppy Bowl was a glorified play-date for a mix of adoption-ready dogs. They got to play and spend a little time in the spotlight, and by the time they stepped off the "field" they almost always had families waiting to go home to. The rest of the facility was made up of temporary play areas, grooming stations and the most ridiculously well-stocked snack table she'd ever seen. The closer she got to it, the more amazed she was at the array of goods in front of her.

"Hard to believe it's all dog food, isn't it?" Came a deep voice from behind her. Emma swiveled and frowned, wondering where the voice had come from until she felt Hank's leash tugging at her wrist. A man dressed as a referee was kneeling down to greet him, palm outstretched so the inquisitive puppy could check him out.

Emma abandoned her thoughts on fancy dog food the second the referee stood up fully, realizing this was the man she'd seen in the little playback clips before. He'd looked a bit goofy and overlarge on screen compared to all the tiny animals around him, pulling faces for the puppy's and audience's benefit. Now, with what seemed to be over six feet of him standing in front of her and smiling her way, it all seemed a lot less ridiculous than before.

"That's little Henry, right? David told me he'd been adopted," the man continued, beaming at the little dog as he thoroughly sniffed around the pair of sneakers he was wearing.

"You know David?" Emma asked, more curious than ever. She'd meant to ask him about his _name_, or how he had any right making a ridiculous costume like that look so attractive, but fully formed sentences were a start, at least. "I've been calling him Hank for now. Henry seems like more of a person name."

"That's David for you," the referee chuckled, offering his hand for her to shake. "I'm Killian Jones, and David Nolan is actually the reason I'm here. I'm one of the vet tech volunteers at his shelter for the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year."

"Ah," Emma said with a tentative nod, slipping her hand into his. His palm was surprisingly warm in hers, and it lingered just long enough to set her on her guard again. Suddenly, Mary Margaret's weird comment about matchmaking was starting to make a lot more sense. "That explains all of this, then."

"All of this?" He asks, finally letting her hand drop.

"Mary Margaret told me my adoption fee would be waived if I could bring him here for them and supervise while he makes his tv debut."

"Aye, that's all true," he tells her, smirking at the suspicious tone in her voice. The accent was growing on her by the second, to her dismay, and the little sparkle in his eye made it clear that he'd noticed. "I got roped into it myself a while ago with my little girl."

Emma glanced down at the dark puppy at her feet, wishing he was feeling a little more rambunctious to give her something to distract her from Killian Jones. Henry seemed content to look around the room with his quiet, thoughtful eyes, behaving perfectly despite all the surrounding commotion.

"Your little lad had quite the time of it when he was first born, you know," Killian said gently, following her eyes down to the floor where Henry was resting his head on his big, freckled paws. "We thought it might have been parvo for a while, but it turned out he was simply dehydrated and needed a little extra care before he could play with his friends again." Killian was talking about her new dog like he'd known him for months, even though he was only a few months old. Emma felt a rush of _something_ flow through her when she looked up and saw the smile that went with the affection in his voice, especially when it was directed right at her.

"He's a good fit for you."

Emma responded by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, unsure of how to react. He was a complete stranger, albeit a ridiculously attractive one, and there was no reason for a simple little statement like that to feel so genuine coming from him. No reason for her to smile and for once in her life just thank someone instead of brushing off the compliment before it could stick. No reason to lean in on her other foot and sway a little closer to that toothy grin of his, either, but she did it anyway.

"Am I keeping you from your work?" Emma asked, absentmindedly winding the leash around her wrist. "Seems like puppy refereeing might be a full-time gig."

"They'll call me when they need me. I'm well-trained that way."

Emma snorted at the line but stayed where she was, telling herself that it was because her puppy looked so content to lay on the floor and watch the people and their pets buzz around him. She knew they were still getting used to each other, and she didn't want to ruin the tentative bond they'd established so far.

"Pardon me for asking, lass, but I don't believe you gave me your name in return for mine," Killian pointed out, using the same hand that had reached for hers to scratch nervously behind his ear. "I'd settle for the first, if you don't want to —"

"_Jones! _Standby for the pregame show!" A voice shouted from the other half of the large room. He smiled at her apologetically then and nodded his goodbye, catching Hank's attention as he jogged away across the floor. Emma felt a tiny pinch of regret lodge between her eyes just as he ducked out of sight. The puppy at her feet whined just as the thought left her mind and she smiled, leaning down herself to scratch at the fur beneath his chin.

"Come on, little guy. Time to go get you signed in before we get yelled at, too."

* * *

As it turned out, owners of all the animals that made up the Puppy Bowl got all-access passes to the filming event. The puppies were taken care of by special trained staff, which freed her up to check out the rest of the production. An official-looking staffer with a clipboard had come by to let her know about a screening area with snacks fit for human consumption and she happily followed her down the hall, plopped herself down on the corner of an empty couch with a plate full of finger food on her lap and sat ready to spend the next several hours of her day doing nothing but watch puppies play on tv.

It ended up a little different than the stuff she saw online. The live video feed lacked the animated, pun-heavy commentary she'd liked so much, as well as the strategic camera angle changes that focused in on the best action, but when her little boy showed up on screen she put her plate aside and smiled excitedly at the screen. He wasn't much of a defenseman, she noticed, at least where the ball was concerned. Killian's calves seemed to draw his attention more than any of the brightly colored toys on the ground, and Emma blamed him for continually drawing her eyes back to the dark-haired man whenever his face was on screen.

She couldn't help it. He had the brightest, bluest eyes, and his smile seemed just as full of light. Killian Jones made puppy refereeing look easy when there was no way it was anything but chaos, and she even saw him diffuse some tension between two aggressive pups before it could launch into a full-blown tussle. It shouldn't have been so attractive, but it was, and now that contract about regular vet visits didn't seem nearly as daunting now that she had _that _to potentially look forward to.

To her complete embarrassment, though, Hank managed to pee right on his shoe during the "second half" and earn himself a foul on the field. Now the clip of his little incident was almost certain to be included in the final broadcast, and by extension, preserved on the internet for all time.

"I'm really, really sorry about Hank," she apologized to him later, right after he stepped out of the puppy arena and finished his filming. Her puppy only lasted fifteen minutes before wandering off to a corner of their little stadium to nap, and they'd since returned him to her to let a couple other little balls of fur share the spotlight. "I'd say he's usually pretty good about that, but for all I know he's actually terrible about it. Did I mention I was sorry?"

Killian shook his head and held his hand up, effectively silencing her apology before she could keep rambling on. "It's not the first time it's happened, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

"But it's pee," Emma groaned, wishing she could make herself stop talking about it so she could get on with her life and forget about the time she and her new puppy had embarrassed herself in front of a cute vet technician and most of America. "You're really not upset?"

"Not if it means I get more time on the sidelines here with you, lass. It was nice to not have to think up an excuse to come over here."

Emma opened her mouth, waiting for a witty response to form on her tongue and make its way out of her mouth. He was being forward again, but this time he wasn't apologizing for it, and she couldn't find it in her to complain.

"You said you had a dog earlier, right?" She asked suddenly, only noticing a slightly desperate tinge to her voice as she spat the question out. "Is she here today?"

"Unfortunately not," he answered, either willfully ignoring her outburst or graciously pretending it hadn't happened at all. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to show her a picture of a large black lab that looked like the future version of Hank, minus the freckled paws, and grinned pridefully at the screen as he leaned in to give her a better look. "That's my Stella."

Emma paid his tanned forearms a little more attention than the actual phone, but only because the sudden closeness caught her by surprise. Definitely not because of the obvious muscle tone that suggested he did a lot more than referee puppy television shows with his time. "I'm sure she wishes she was here right now."

"Oh, she truly does. Stella Bear would love to take my job for me and keep all of those puppies in line, but she doesn't exactly fill out the uniform."

"There's always next year, right?" she hummed, flicking her eyes over to him with a little grin.

"That's what I keep telling her."

An entire squadron of leashed puppies came barreling toward them then, once again reminding her normal acquaintances didn't stand quite so close to each other as they were now. She scooted forward in time to intercept Hank, who was lingering at the back of the pack and taking sleepy, wobbly steps toward her. She swept him up into her arms with little hesitation, giving him extra attention after realizing she'd gotten used to having the little jingle of his collar following her around.

"Well," Emma drew the word out a bit reluctantly, "Someone looks more than ready to nap. We should probably head out soon," she added, failing to make a single move away from Killian and his ridiculously charming referee outfit. Hank yawned with a little squeak as if to emphasize her statement, giving her a sleepy look that said he preferred to leave sooner rather than later.

"Guess you should," Killian nodded, managing to swing infinitesimally closer to her and letting his eyes drop to the puppy in her arms. Hank reminded him of Stella when she was that young, and he found himself suddenly wondering whether the two of them would get along together. "Although," he continued, flicking his eyes back up to her and deciding to try his luck just one more time, "If you don't mind taking advantage of the fact that my phone is still out, and perhaps giving me a way to contact you in the future, I might be able to get you an advance copy of the entire thing after it airs."

Emma looked at him for a beat, knowing the casual air in his words stood for something deeper. It was a chance to answer her wish more than one in the same week, a chance to take a risk even bigger than letting a puppy into her home. A chance to smirk and laugh and let someone see the pieces of her she'd never wanted to shed light on before.

"Just to make sure I'm understanding you here," she replied, slowly slipping a hand free so she could reach out for the phone he was tentatively angling her way. "This is about the Puppy Bowl? No other intentions here?"

"Just looking out for you and little Hank here," he shrugged, his eyes telling her everything his voice wasn't. "Why do you ask? Is there another reason a gentleman like myself might ask a beautiful woman for her phone number?"

"There might be if you're free this Friday...especially if you know any good puppysitters," Emma said offhandedly, only pausing to catch his reaction for a second before handing his phone back to her. Her own phone buzzed in her pocket a second later with a text she'd sent to herself, startling Hank and making them both laugh enough to break the happy tension that was growing in the air between them both.

"I think I know a few," he nodded, glancing at his phone. _Emma Swan_ was the message she'd sent him, mostly because she remembered she'd never told him her name when he'd asked her before, and she found she liked the smile that blossomed on his face when he saw it most out of all the ones she'd seen yet.

* * *

As it turned out, Emma had a lot more to thank David for than her puppy. The way Killian fit into his vet scrubs when she visited for Hank's monthly appointment certainly made the list, but the way he was starting to fit perfectly into her life definitely topped it all.


End file.
